Apolgies Mr. Samath. Apologies Dear Rajni.

Mr. TK Samath was my PE teacher in school. The most loved and loving person within the school premises, he used to take us out for PE classes when I joined in Reception and was still around referee-ing football matches and heading the school scout association when I left in Grade 12th. Rajni (or Ranjini, which was her actual name) was our first maid. When Ammi returned to teaching, it was Rajni who would be at home when we came back from school. She would heat the food for us, tidy up the house, do the dishes and even iron our uniforms for the next day before Ammi returned. She stayed as our housemaid for many years. Both Rajni and Mr. Samath, in their own different ways, played their part in my upbringing. Of the various qualities they had the more striking ones were their decency, graciousness and "Down to Earthiness." Having found similar qualities in other Sri Lankan teachers and housemaids, I had assumed these to be cultural traits ingrained in the people.

It seemed like another weekday morning. I was half-awake alternately snoozing the alarms on my work and personal mobiles every few minutes. Though I could vaguely remember suddenly waking up some time ago from what had seemed like a scary dream. I have passed the age of nightmares though there is the occasional sudden jolt moments after just falling asleep. This wasn't a nightmare as such. What I remembered of it was a couple of well built men making their way towards a building that seemed to be home. I had ran inside without securing the doors and had woken up in a feeling of helplessness. That's all I remembered in the moment when Ammi came in and said those words. "Omer they're saying that the Sri Lankan team has been fired upon while on their way to the stadium in Lahore." "Nahee!" "Haan. Some players have been injured and policemen have been shot." A feeling of helplessness and gloom shot through.

We had failed to protect the very men who had come to help put us back on the cricketing map of the world. The men who were ready to give us a chance. We with our claims of being the most hospitable and generous of hosts. We with our refusals to accept rickshaw fares from visiting cricket journalists; we who would serve our guests with the most mouthwatering of dishes in our foodstreets; we who had painted our faces with the tricolor on one side and the sabz-hilal on the other and had chanted for Balaji despite him hitting our fastest bowler for sixes. In a matter of minutes all was lost. All including a few brave security personnel who acted courageously and laid down their lives to protect our guests; who along with the drivers of the two vehicles (including the commando who drove the van carrying the match officials to safety) the Pakistani nation owes a lot to. 

Yet the damage had been done. While we fought our petty political battles, we left our most important guests vulnerable. Governor Rule and horse-trading were more important to us than heeding to security warnings. A state that cannot provide safety to its guests does not deserve any. And an electorate that paves the way for inept administrators to run its affairs should not deserve any sport. 

As we mourn the loss of brave men and bury yet another outlet for communal entertainment, we should also reflect on the culture of shortcuts, cheating, corruption and outdoing each other by being clever that is destroying us like a cancer.

Thanks to the Sri Lankan players, officials and nation for their understanding and sympathetic response. Apologies for not being able to provide you with the security we promised. To Mr. Samath and Rajni, who taught me to always be a sport and do each job with the utmost responsiblity: Sorry.